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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28991724">i hope to see you soon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpFinch/pseuds/KelpFinch'>KelpFinch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Character Death, Depersonalization, Depression, Derealization, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mental Illness, Paranoia, Random character - Freeform, Self-Harm, Unknown Character - Freeform, vent - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:09:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,129</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28991724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpFinch/pseuds/KelpFinch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"hopefully see you in spring or summer, then."</p><p>"yeah"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i hope to see you soon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>many trigger warnings for things tagged above like depression, drug use and abuse, and derealization</p><p>stay safe</p><p>this is mostly a vent thing. idk. also barely edited/looked over</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>parting ways with someone you love is always troublesome. that is, in the sense that they're still around. still alive. in the case that they aren't, and you parted ways in the sense that they're gone forever, losing them is more than troublesome; it's heartbreaking and disastrous. if it's someone's closest friend, then it's dare say lamentable. one slice of a knife, one too many pills, one foot off the ledge, can lead to the end of one and the fall of another.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>he lined the white, crystal appearing powder, taking great care to not let any escape into the sink and down the wretched drain. with the posture similar to that of a shrimp, he bent over and inhaled, eyes blinking many times as he straightened up a bit. he sniffed and rubbed his nose, forcefully letting a chuckle full of grief out of his throat. gripping the sides of the sink and looking at the leftover minuscule bits of powder, he gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>when his phone dinged annoyingly, signifying a new message, he opened his eyes and looked down at it. several missed calls and unread messages sat as notifications on the lock screen. the lock screen that was a picture of his lost friend. the one he lost a few months prior. the friend's face was covered by the series of notifications, almost as if censoring or hiding their face, trying to get him to forget.</p><p> </p><p>another ding.</p><p> </p><p>even after all this time, someone was still trying to reach him. maybe he should talk to them, maybe even get help before he ends up killing himself due to all the drug and smoke use.</p><p> </p><p>but the feeling came strong, the one of feeling as if no one and nothing was real. everything was fake; he wasn't even real, was he? or perhaps he was the only real person in this counterfeit world. he wasn't sure, maybe he was duped into thinking he had friends and that they were real. that he had control over his life when he actually didn't. if this whole shithole of a place wasn't even real, if no one he thought he knew was real, then what's the point? what the fuck is the point?</p><p> </p><p>he took one last look at his phone's lock screen before shutting it off and looking away.</p><p> </p><p>"it's been a few months, now. and i still can't get out of the loop, the endless loop. i miss you, but you're gone. and I'm left here fucking destroying life," he choked out.</p><p> </p><p>he sighed, obviously wondering why he was expecting any sort of response from a dead person, and stood straight up. he grabbed his lighter and a smoke, and flicked the lighter on with a bit of a struggle as the powder was clearly kicking in by now. managing to light the cigarette, he inhaled and looked in the mirror at the person looking back at him. blowing out the smoke, he studied the person in the mirror. their skin was dull and had an almost ghostly appearance while their cheeks were sunken in and their eyes appeared hollow. dull irises almost contrasted the brighter red of their bloodshot eyes. who was this, and why didn't he recognize them? </p><p><br/>he inhaled another puff of smoke, staring at the person as they did the exact same thing. as if they were him, as if he was them; as if they were one in the same. looking at the person, or perhaps himself, he forgets about the smoke he's holding in his lungs. he thinks back to the conversation they had together over text before his friend ended their life within the next few days. they were supposed to grow up together, play games and live life, they were supposed to be happy. they had planned on getting together in their hometown that weekend, but plans changed and they couldn't, so he had stayed home. </p><p> </p><p>he remembers the text word for word, "hopefully see you in spring or summer, then."</p><p> </p><p>they had replied with a simple, "Yeah."</p><p> </p><p>nothing had seemed <em>that</em> off. then again, isn't that what so many people claim? that the person was seemingly fine and content when in actuality they had been suffering to the point of breaking?</p><p> </p><p>it's easy to believe you're the one to blame when you didn't actually cause them to end their life. he had to believe it wasn't his fault... wasn't it?</p><p> </p><p>as his eyes came back into focus, he noticed a figure standing behind him and suddenly couldn't breathe. he couldn't breathe. fuck, why couldn't he breathe?</p><p> </p><p>when he exhaled sharply, the long-forgotten smoke puffed out in front of him. that's why he couldn't breathe. </p><p> </p><p>taking sharp breaths in and out, he coughed and hacked until he could breathe at least decently again. there was a sharp pain while inhaling now, but that wasn't his focus right now. he whipped his head up and tried focusing his fucked eyes on the figure behind him in the mirror. he didn't quite recognize them, but they had certain features of his long-gone friend.</p><p> </p><p>he was speechless, opening and closing his mouth multiple times. rubbing his eyes, he thought, <em>no way. no fucking way. what the fuck- who the fuck. it has to be the drugs, it has to be. right?</em></p><p> </p><p>"but drugs have never caused you to hallucinate like this, have they," the figure responded as if reading his thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>he looked at the figure in the mirror with widened eyes full of fear and confusion. "w.. what? how did you..?" he trailed off in disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>"don't you feel guilty?" the figure questioned while keeping a blank expression. </p><p> </p><p>he rubbed his eyes even harder now, but when he looked back, the figure was still there.</p><p> </p><p>"i.. i..." he sputtered, words getting caught in his throat as he tried slowing his thoughts down.</p><p> </p><p>"well, you were involved, weren't you? you must've done something. or you did nothing, maybe that's the problem. you should've reached out."</p><p> </p><p>"no.. no... i, i didn't know my friend would.... i didn't know! i told him i was there for him.." he choked out, tears welling up and threatening to spill.</p><p> </p><p>"you're lying now."</p><p> </p><p>his eyebrows knitted together and angeled up. "no, i'm not! i'm not! please, please leave. it must be the drugs. it must be... please.."</p><p> </p><p>"i mean, it must be your fault in some way. your memory is so shit you can't even remember his favorite things. or maybe you never even asked, maybe you never actually cared." the figure barely moved while speaking, eyes trained on him in the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>his eyes shut as he shook with fear and sorrow, tears spilling out of his eyes. he hung his head, gripping the sides of the sink more harshly now. he sobbed, "no, please. i can't. i can't do this. i can't help my memory, i swear i asked him. i always cared. i loved him, he was like a brother to me."</p><p> </p><p>the figure stared, unmoving. although he had his eyes shut and couldn't see the figure, he could feel the stare as if it were a ray of the hot sun.</p><p> </p><p>"hopefully see you in spring or summer, then." the figure spoke.</p><p> </p><p>he opened his eyes again, tears cold as they slid down his face and collected at his chin before dripping onto the counter. through his shaking, he looked back up at the figure.</p><p> </p><p>"how.. how did you-?" he asked before getting cut off.</p><p> </p><p>"that was your last text to your friend. you didn't see much wrong with their reply? how they simply replied 'yeah' and left it at that? never to send anything else?"</p><p> </p><p>he didn't reply this time, just staring at the figure in bewilderment. he was stuck in shock, shaking with tears cascaded down his face and eyes trained on the figure.</p><p> </p><p>"it's your fault. it always was, always will be. if you had been a better friend, he'd be here. if you were a good person, so many of your previous friends wouldn't have left you. you would have more friends if you weren't always so shitty.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>end it.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>"if you had just reached out, he'd be here. but you didn't. you never did. the one time he reached out, you weren't there. what were you doing? sleeping for hours on end and harming yourself while not even thinking of others."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong><em>it's your fault.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>as the words were like a waterfall coming from the figure's mouth and thoughts rang through his head, the drugs began to wear off. must've been around 15 minutes already. he tried ignoring all the thoughts, sighing in relief as he noticed it wearing off.</p><p> </p><p>"thank god it's wearing off. you'll be gone soon, right?" he laughed, still shaking uncontrollably with tears trailing down his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>the figure just stood there, still staring, still unmoving.</p><p> </p><p>"please..." he begged.</p><p> </p><p>"i'm still here," the figure pointed out. "it wasn't the drugs, it never was. you know that. it's always just you."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>you should've died alone, not your friend.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>the figure repeated, "it's your fault. it always is."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>it's always you.</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"no... no.. i... it's not my fault, please.. it's not.." he said, almost in a whisper. he didn't even believe himself anymore, though, and no one else did.</p><p> </p><p>"what's the point if you're going to keep hurting those around you? you're a parasite."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>a monster.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>"get out of my head, please. those aren't my thoughts. that's not me.. please," he sobbed, shutting his eyes so tight it hurt his head.</p><p> </p><p>"that's not me," the figure responded simply.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>it's you. always. isn't it?</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>he shook his head aggressively as if getting dust out of his hair.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>you can't get rid of me. i'm you. i'm in your head.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>"it's your fault," the figure repeated once more.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>end it.</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>he looked a the empty baggy that once sheltered the white powder that came and went through his system. then at his phone that harbored all the unread messages and unseen notifications. finally, he looked at the still lit cigarette laying on the counter that had been neglected after a mere two puffs.</p><p>what friends did he have left? was anyone even real to begin with? his whole life it felt like he was watching this person walk around and live a boring life full of loops. he wasn't real, just watching. as if in third-person. as if watching a movie, no control.</p><p> </p><p>the figure still stared with the same blank expression as before.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>what is there to live for?</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>almost reluctantly, he opened the drawer that harbored a knife and looked at the sharp, shiny sides. the blade was perfect, wasn't it?</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>perfect.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>settling the blade against his arm, he took one last look at the figure in the mirror. they were different in a small way. they were still staring, but now their head was slightly down so a shadow cast over their face. he could barely see the small smile, or perhaps smirk, that they fashioned. </p><p> </p><p>maybe he should smile, too. this is for the best, really. </p><p> </p><p><em>right. for the best.</em> he thought as the edges of his mouth twitched upwards.</p><p> </p><p>he chuckled gruffly, smile widening. he took one last look at the figure before grabbing his cigarette and taking one more big puff of it. he exhaled, letting the smoke cover and surround him. he returned the knife to its place, shutting his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>he was no longer shaking, his tears and their trails along his cheeks were drying up, and the fear was slipping away.</p><p> </p><p>taking the blade across and finishing it, he dropped it and kept smiling. as the blood drained from his body, he soon realized he was on the floor now, head aching from the hit off the tile.</p><p> </p><p>he thought of his friend, the one he lost. of all the good memories, of the very few bad ones. the smile stayed on his face the whole time, his blood creating a lukewarm puddle that was quickly becoming cold. he had never realized how cold his place always was, how cold he always was. he was just used to it, he figured.</p><p> </p><p>the figure looked down at him once more before fading. the thoughts that had reigned terror on his mind and caused so much pain were finally gone. he had gotten rid of them, he had killed them off.</p><p>if he was going, at least they were going down with him.</p><p> </p><p>"i'll see you very soon, my friend," he mumbled, barely conscious at this point, eyes closing and body becoming still.</p><p> </p><p>as he slipped away into the darkness, into whatever void there was after death, he muttered one last thing with his final breath,</p><p> </p><p>"everything's ok."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>for those at the end here, you are real. the people and things you know are all real. you have control over your life, it's ok. it's going to be ok.</p><p>please reach out and seek help when you need it. don't keep it all in until you break.</p><p>it'll be ok, i promise you. you're real, you have control. breathe.</p><p>life is a struggle, but it's worth it in the end. maybe you aren't ok now, but that doesn't mean you'll never be ok.</p><p>please, stay. stay with us. you're worth more than the world's supply of pennies.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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